the touch of the wings of love
comes freely,
lightly,
unexpectedly
not the ordinary,
not the common,
not the garden variety
amidst the breathing and movement of day-to-day
clouded by the frenzy of the trivia
one light momentary touch,
and the wings take flight again,
even before the blessed
registers the grace bestowed
its fleeting touch
leaves its mark for a lifetime
and beyond.
~r
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